Island
by anonymouslyknown111
Summary: After a turbulent return, Molly and Sherlock discover some new things about each other, leading them to an unusual place... Rated M for future frisky chapters and strong language. Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Sherlolly fluff, read and enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hello again readers. I've written 90% of the story so far whilst I've been away, however I'm not overly sure if I actually like it! Have a read and see what you think, at least it's some fluff to fill our evenings! Reviews/comments appreciated but not necessary, just try and enjoy. Thanks all x_**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

Molly was sat at the bar away from the main reception room, occupied by a teenage couple attempting to pull each other, John's uncle, Simon, passed out in the armchair by the fire, and Mary's parents, drinking tea and trying not to nod off. All of a sudden it was September. Nights were drawing in as soon as eight-thirty, rain soon became frequent, and the autumn chill began to coax out the scarves and gloves of disgruntled Londoners.

Sherlock made his return the previous christmas, after eight months of being on the run.

_"What do you need?"_

_"You.."_

The words still haunted Molly Hooper. The hour between him saying those words to her and helping him evidently fake his own death, Molly dreamed_. He'll stay with me. He'll have nowhere to go, I'm the only one who knows. That'll be it. _She smiled as her eyes glazed over. He'd fall in love with her over late nights of tea drinking and pajama banter.

He died. Two hours later, he was gone.

* * *

"I must leave now, Molly." He stared at her as she flustered around the morgue, preparing his 'paperwork', having already put the 'body' into the body bag. She froze, back to him, thankfully, so she wouldn't have to endure the humiliation of his look when he saw her pure devastation.

"How long will you be, Sherlock?" She asked, barely containing the quiver in her voice.

"You must forget about me Molly, for your own good. May I ask something more of you? If that's entirely possible.." His hand on her shoulder gently turned her to face him.

The tears now falling down her face, she looked up into his eyes, a good nine inches above her own. She nodded at him, unable to persuade her voice out from hiding.

"Keep your eye on John."

She saw genuine sorrow in his eyes, his steely armour vanishing momentarily. She nodded again, closing her eyes tightly, begging the tears to stop, when actually causing more to flood her cheeks.

Her eyes shut, she didn't know if it was the sweet, hot breath on her nose, or the warm, pursed lips against her own that she felt first. It didn't matter. Deciding to be shocked later, the two wrapped each other up in their encasing embrace, spending minutes saying goodbyes with their lips.

Breaking the kiss, Sherlock brought his hands to Molly's face, thumbing away her drying tears and letting his forehead rest on hers. Letting their breath settle, their eyes opened simultaneously and met, both taking mental pictures of each others faces, to mourn over later. A chaste kiss was placed on her nose, and he was walking out.

"How will I know if you're ok?" She said quite audibly after him, the tears welling again in her wide, brown baubles.

* * *

He didn't even look back, afraid it would break him, again. _Why did I do that? Have I not just made everything worse?_ He shut his eyes tight, escaping through the fire exit and straight into Mycrofts sent car. The last thing he heard in London, which in turn, haunted him more than words can explain, was his pathologist, Molly Hooper, screaming his name from the silent morgue.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Bear with me, things may get spicier as the chapters move on! In the name of fiction, I'd just like to point out, I have toned down Sherlock's usual strong personality to make him fit in with the more sympathetic tone of the story. Thank you all for the reads etc. Best wishes X_**

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CHAPTER TWO

The eight months without him had gone slowly for Molly. It seemed to her that the colour had been drained from the world. Everything was grey. She'd taken a month off from work following his _death_, after Mike had found her hysterical in the morgue screaming Sherlock's name. Since then, she'd carry on, even as the sorry state of a woman she found herself as. Work, drinks with Mary, dinner with John. She'd met a bloke. Alex. Worked at the university, part time teaching in bio-engineering. Relatively good looking, boring as shit. It's what Molly needed, someone to put up with her miserable self.

Then _he_ came back.

John and Mary, Molly and Alex, plus Lestrade and Mrs Hudson were at 221B, which was preserved, somewhat like a shrine, a testimony of John's reluctance to get over it _all_.

_Oh what perfect timing he had._

No words were said between each other, though their eyes were meeting haphazardly constantly throughout the hour following.

Begging their apologies, something about being an eventful evening, Molly and Alex left. Making a point not to look at him, she left, grabbing Alex's hand as they descended down the stairs, more for physical support than as an affectionate gesture.

"Alex I need to be alone this evening." She said, hailing a cab, not raising her eyes from her shoes. _Black, patent heels. Four inch heel, well worn. Two years old, left heel needs new sole._

_What, was she thinking like him now?_

He said he understood, pecked her on the cheek and squeezed her arm before making her promise to call him in the morning, or if she needed anything. She nodded impatiently, silently dismissing him as she climbed into the cab and spilled out her address.

She was in the cab, trying harder than ever to save her tears for her flat, when she felt her phone buzz.

_Not now, Alex._

She just about managed to type in her passlock code before her eyes began to glaze over with salty tears.

I'm sorry, Molly. -SH

She stared at the screen. Deciding to leave it, and reply when she got home.

Paying the cab driver, she fumbled for her keys in her coat pocket, brushing against her excited phone. Sighing as she entered her flat, she pulled the phone from her coat pocket before throwing it on her wicker chair next to the hall table. She kicked off her black heels and skunked into her living room.

Not even bothering to turn on the lamp, she decided against sleeping in front of the TV again and moped to her bedroom.

She went about brushing her teeth, washing her face and getting into her frayed, tartan pajama's without trying to be distracted by constant interruption of her phone, vibrating against the lamp on her bedside table. She got into bed, picked up her phone and prepared for the emotional fallout.

_I couldn't inform you of my progress in case of detection. -SH_

_You didn't even speak to me, Molly. -SH_

_Molly, please. -SH_

_Who on earth was that irritable quim of a man you were accompanied by this evening? -SH_

_He's got a string of ex-girlfriends he's attempted to coax into marriage. Desperate to please his mother. You can do better, Molly. -SH_

_Please talk to me, I'm sorry. -SH_

_I have missed you. -SH_

She turned her phone onto silent, and shoved it in her drawer. Turning over, feeling empty, she sunk into a forced sleep, allowing Sherlock to get what he wanted to say, _text_, out of his system. _He'll be over it when John forgives him. This means fuck all._

When she woke up, the sun streamed through the blinds of her window that she forgot to close. The first thing she noticed was the honey sunlight bouncing off the green duvet that encased her. Her mousy hair, tinted with a natural auburn spread over the cream pillowcase, pointing to the mint green wallpaper which made a feature wall out of the window wall. Molly blinked, and for the first time in eight months, she smiled.

Her colours had returned.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again for everything, just want to point out this chapter returns to analepsis. X

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

The date was September the 6th. The time was 11.26pm. Nine hours ago, Mary Morstan became Mary Watson.

Molly was sat at the bar away from the main reception room, occupied by a teenage couple attempting to pull each other, John's uncle, Simon, passed out in the armchair by the fire, and Mary's parents, drinking tea and trying not to nod off.

She ordered a large scotch whiskey, and held it in her hands possessively. Swaying slightly to the distant music, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. A beautiful melange of smells graced her nose. The scotch, the wood of the oak bar, a spicy aftershave.. _Aftershave_.

"I thought you'd left." The surly statement from Sherlock's lips reverberated in Molly's eardrums, the velvety deepness of his tone possessing her full attention. He sat himself down next to Molly at the bar, gesturing to the barkeep a scotch for himself.

Molly stayed silent until the bartender had poured Sherlock's poison. She stole a glance at him, cravat loosened, explicitly exposing his neck, waistcoat intact. Hair curled as usual, crisp white dress-shirt tucked into the waistband of his slim black trousers. No jacket to be seen. The typical best-man attire, though unusual for Sherlock, couldn't help but be noticed by Molly, and _damn_, he pulled the look off well. His gaze was mellow, yet his eyes were straight ahead, as though he was seated next to a stranger. His left hand resting on the bar, his right hand bringing the crystal scotch glass to his peachy lips.

Molly stared back at her hands, unknowing of what to say next. She thought of herself, her hair and make up were done professionally, as we're the other two bridesmaids, yet it did nothing to spruce up her appearance. The dress was nude, a silk that was full length yet brought attention to her slim waist and small yet perky breasts. As pretty as Molly thought the dress was, she couldn't help but think the length of the dress made herself look smaller in stature, despite the matching nude four-inch heels.

She brought her hand up to her neck, caressing her stressed shoulder. This was the first time Molly had spoken to Sherlock since his return. That was four weeks ago.

"You didn't reply to my texts." He spoke again, this time turning his head towards Molly, desperately trying to seek out a sign of emotion from her.

"I don't know what to say to you, Sherlock."

Silence impregnated their atmosphere.

"Molly, I've had a difficult few months, I understand you must of as well, but something happened to me, something happened to me when I kissed you. Before I left, do you remember?"

She shot him a pleading glance_. Of course I fucking do, you moron._

"I have never considered sentiment an advantage. Look where it got me, faking a death to save the lives of my friends.. And unbeknown to John, I have, in the past, albeit a considerable amount of time ago, have engage in romantic...relationships." He was stuttering, aware of Molly's questioning eyes. _What are you getting at, Sherlock?_

"Anyway, I gave up all that a long time ago to concentrate in work, I never had the animalistic instinct to want that sort of thing.." He blushed, something that softened Molly's heart.

"Sherlock, stop dawdling. Just tell me what you want me to say." _That came out harsher than intended,_ she thought, before composing herself to focus on his face as he spoke.

He looked at her, a sucked in a sharp breath.

"I thought of you every day I was away. I _missed_ you. I feel that every day I spent away from you these past eight months have been some sort of time for repenting, repenting the evil I have done to you. Manipulating you, taking advantage of your..feelings. And I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." His eyes were averted, waiting for her response.

She'd waited for this moment for some time since his return, some sort of apology from him. A sincere one. She just assumed she'd never get it.

"What does that mean though, Sherlock? I don't understand what you want from me." He could hear the defeat in her voice, see the hurt in her eyes. It infuriated him, how he'd dreamt of those eyes, how he'd dreamt of making her smile for him.

He stood out of his chair, hysteria taking over.

"Molly, for gods sakes- YOU! I want you, Molly, you're all I've even thought about. I've changed Molly. These past few months have changed me. I'm not the arrogant wanker I was when I left, I'm broken, dependant, I'm in need of you. You will fix me, every time I see you, you fix some small wound at a time."

It was too much. The tears began to roll down her face, he was next to her instantly, taking her hands in his, searching her eyes.

"Sherlock, I've changed too.. I'm with Alex now, I'm in love..." _Well, near enough._

"You're not though, Molly."

"I know I'm not but I'm angry at you!" She hit his chest, though a smile broke through the tears like a rainbow breaks through the rain.

He laughed and pulled her into a hug, her face nestled into his chest, her arms encircled around his back. His chin rested on the top of her head after having planted a delicate kiss on her crown.

"It's late Molly, lets go to bed."

His murmur calmed her down, she smiled up at him, eyes glistening, lingering for a moment, before he offered her a hand. She smiled cheekily, downed the last mouthful of scotch, and before she knew it was being half cuddled by her consulting detective as they ascended the stairs to her hotel room.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FIVE

She flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room with a gentle glow and threw herself on the bed. Sherlock locked the door and walked towards her, removing his waistcoat as he walked.

"Help me get out of these shoes, they're a bloody killer." She mock frowned at his smiling face.

"Of course I will, Miss Hooper."

He bent down on one knee and raised her left foot. Carefully undoing the strap that restrained her ankle, he pulled off the matching nude shoe, caressing her foot as he went. Molly was unaware of the groan that escaped her throat when Sherlock ran his massaging hand up her calf. His upturned mouth let out a smirk;

"I am sorry Miss Hooper, have I done something to upset you?" He started on the other shoe.

Her eyes shot open. _Shit_.

"No, no! I'm just really tired and my feet are killing..." _It's distracting to form an eligible sentence when the man i've been in love with for nearly four years is massaging my calf._

Their eyes met, warmly, full of love. It was unceremonious. She got up to brush her teeth and change into her owl-print pajama's, to return to the bed in which Sherlock now occupied, stripped down to his black boxer shorts.

She flicked off the light and got in beside Sherlock, taking up a spooning position. He kissed her ear and wrapped his body around hers, engulfing them both in consensual and possessive warmth.

"I meant it, Molly. I've missed you terribly."

"I know.. Lets just sleep and deal with this in the morning." She said, feeling sleep already taking over her, but playfully bumping her small arse against his hard groin.

They both chuckled, sighing and settling.

"Goodnight, Molly."


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks so much for your reviews and everything :) always appreciated xx

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE

It was the Wednesday following the Saturday of John and Mary's wedding. Molly had had a tough few days. Waking up with Sherlock on Sunday morning was wonderful. She felt as if the weight of the world had lifted as her burden, she felt _truly_ happy for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. Breaking up with Alex on Monday had been more traumatic than necessary, and now she'd spent twenty-nine out of the last forty-eight hours in the morgue.

It was the start of her late shift on Wednesday, just after 8.30pm. Moving around the morgue, tidying and filing, Molly was tired of waiting for a body to arrive. She sat on her office chair, spinning on its axis like a child in need of entertainment when she heard a gentle knock at the door.

"Er, come in?" With bewilderment in her voice, she sighed with content as Sherlock walked through the door, hanging his coat and scarf behind the door and placing himself on the chair facing her desk.

"You never knock." She smiled, gazing at him.

"I never confess my feelings to young women at weddings either Miss Hooper, miracles can happen." Mirroring her relaxed mood, he motioned to his lap. Her smile never faltering, she got up out of her chair and positioned herself on his lap. He buried his face in her hair, smelling the coconut shampoo on her hair.

"I broke up with Alex on Monday, I couldn't tell you yesterday when you came in with John."

"Mm, good." His mind was far away, documenting every little thing about Molly's smell in his mind palace.

"Does John still have no suspicions of what you got up to on his wedding night?"

"I think John was more preoccupied with what _he_ was getting up to on his wedding night, Doctor." Molly laughed and blushed, the breath on her neck sending sleepy chills down her back.

"Spend tomorrow with me." He said it more as a statement than a question.

"Can't."

"Reason?"

"Going away."

Their sleepy cuddle was woken. He pulled his face from her hair, brows furrowing and concern in his eyes.

_"You're going away? Where? _You never have time off work." He looked genuinely hurt that she may have other plans than spending her spare time with him. She cocked her head and smiled at him;

"Oh Sherlock, don't be insensitive. I'm going to Scotland until Monday. Well, an island in the Hebrides. Do you know where the Hebrides are?"

"Of course." He said without much conviction; "why are you going there?"

"Personal reasons." She got up off his lap and began fidgeting with the bits on her desk.

"Molly, tell me." He stood too, trying to hold her hands.

"No, Sherlock. Personal reasons, leave it at that."

"Molly-"

"Just fuck off Sherlock!" Her scream pushed him back, the heavy silence broken by the phone ringing.

She answered without breaking the deadly stare between herself and Sherlock.

"Yes, Doctor Hooper. Yes. I'm ready bring it down."

She slammed down the phone, picking up a file and standing at the door, holding it open expectantly.

"You need to go Sherlock I have a body coming in." She looked up at his face, still shell shocked by her sudden outburst.

"Sherlock, now. Get out."

He picked up his coat and left.

He'd get to the bottom of this case.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

7am finally came round for an exhausted pathologist. Coffee and tiredness clouded her thoughts and the memory of telling Sherlock where to go last night was swilling round her head like mucky water down the plug hole. She tidied her office and greeted the other pathologist, a new woman Molly didn't care for, who was to take over the next twelve hour shift, but today was enthusiastically pleased to see. She changed in the locker room and surfaced from the dingy morgue into the dawn of London, pulling up her coat collar at the mornings cold dew. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and felt decidedly more alert than she did half an hour ago. _And hungry, by god I'm starving._

She hummed quietly to herself before setting off towards the tube station. It wasn't until some moments later she heard hurried footsteps behind her. Instinctively turning round, she was faced with her consulting detective, pink cheeked from the mornings cold air and the short jog to catch her up. She couldn't resist the smile forming on her face, Sherlock's dishevelled appearance caught her somewhat off guard.

"Sherlock." His name came out of her mouth as a patient sigh, she stopped and looked at him, noticing the cups in his left hand and the small, white, paper bag in his right.

"Molly.. I got us breakfast. It's an apology for last night. I had no right to pry into your private life and I want you to know-" Molly didn't know if it was the tiredness her body felt or the sheer happiness at Sherlock's unlikely yet timely gesture that made her throw her arms around his neck, and crush her lips to his own active ones.

The cold autumnal air had yet to steal the warmth from his lips. Though still and immobile at first, it didn't not take long until his Belstaff clad arms hugged Molly in tighter and his lips moved gently against hers, as if to reheat.

It wasn't a long kiss, nor was it highly suggestive, but it was enough. They broke apart and held each others gaze for a moment longer. Their eyes were smiling, as soon were their lips. Wrapped up in each others warmth, Sherlock pulled her in again for a tight hug. Sighing contently, allowing his breath to prick the hairs on Molly's neck stand erect, he whispered in her ear, her shudder not going unnoticed.

"Let me take you home, Molly."

Not moving from their position, Molly nodded. Unable to keep the smile off her face nor the exhaustion from her aching body.

Taking the cups off Sherlock, they walked hand in hand to the taxi bay.

"Sorry."

"What on earth are you saying sorry for, Molly Hooper?" He squeezed her hand gently.

"Kissing you, I suppose. I've worked 38 hours in the past 72." She said it with an air of triumph. Chuckling deeply, he looked at her and smiled before holding open the can door for her.

Telling the cabbie her address, she looked at Sherlock, who had reclaimed her hand in his own.

"What's funny? Why are you still laughing?"

"You're saying sorry for kissing me. I find it mildly ironic. Since I kissed you before I left, it's all I've thought about. Since returning, and seeing you, being ignored by you. It's taken all the strength I've got to stop myself from doing what you just did. Grabbing you..." He pulled her in closer, moving his face to her ear;

"Holding you.." His deep voice sounded sinful in her ear, the breath once again behind her ear making her shudder.

"Kissing you.." He kissed behind her ear, instinctively making her close her eyes, her head reclining slightly as he placed soft kisses down the side of her neck. He stopped when he heard her so audibly, nuzzling his nose into her hair.

"I don't think I'm going to get used to this new Sherlock." She sniped playfully.

"What do you mean, _new Sherlock?"_ He pulled away from her, the quizzical look filling his eyes.

"Well, being all nice to me. Bringing me breakfast, kissing me in the street, being affectionate in a cab. It's as if you've been replaced by someone. You're not _sentimental_, you told me yourself."

"Molly, I have always been like this. It's just been... dormant. A death can do things to a man. Falling for someone you've known for a long time, that does things to a man."

_Falling for someone. He's fallen for you Molly Hooper._

She looked at him, unsure of what to say. He held his stare, looking relaxed and honest as if he'd just ordered a coffee.

Before she could reply, they were outside her flat. She got out and went about opening the front door whilst he paid. They ascended the stairs in silence, entering the flat too, in a silence. She put her bag down on the kitchen table, as so the cups. She took off her coat and hung it over the chair.

"You're quiet." Those two, non-challant words grabbed her by the throat.

"You're falling for me?" She looked at him again, watching him closing as he placed the breakfast paper bag on the table and removed his coat and scarf, folding them over the other chair.

"Yes, you heard me correctly. I'm just curious as to why you're so quiet about it. You've not said a word since the cab, almost 7 minutes ago."

He looked at her, one hand on the chair, the other in his trouser pocket. She eyed him up and down, his charcoal suit contrasted sharply with the white shirt, open to the nape, as usual. He watched her make her own deductions before moving towards her and pulling her into a submissive embrace.

"Stop over-thinking, Molly. Lets just see what happen, eh? Come on. The breakfast has gone cold but you're not hungry anymore. Get your pajama's on and get into bed."

She yawned into his chest. _How does he know me this well_? She felt comfortable, safe.

"Ok, but may if you stay with me." She squeezed him as a valediction of their embrace, and left for her bedroom. Staring after her, Sherlock smirked and followed.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Tell me why you're going to Scotland."

They lay together in the quiet silence that filled her sun-soaked bedroom. Bodies pressed together, eyes staring dead into each other, brown on blue, noses touching together tentatively. They'd lain like this for over an hour, pecking their lips now an then, to reaffirm their new bond.

He'd broken the silence first, unaware her was unlocking the secrets hidden away in Molly's heart.

"My train leaves at 3pm, I hold get packing really.." Se shifted her glance and fidgeted her body out of his, unsuccessfully.

"Molly, stop it. Rest for an hour you've just come off your third night shift this week, stop it and calm down. Now, tell me. There's no use in keeping it from me, I could probably make an educated deduction but..."

"Ok, fine!" She protested, but gave in when it came to him threatening deducing her. She hated that. With a deep breath, she began, careful not to meet his gaze I case he saw the shame, the guilt or even the regret in her eyes.

"Tomorrow, Friday, is the 12th of September. It marks what would've been my dads birthday.. The day after, the 13th, marks the dad my mum died." She stole a glance at him, he motioned for her to continue, knowing that's not all there was to this story.

"Three years ago, my dad was diagnosed with heart disease. he wasn't feeling well for weeks and mum finally persuaded him to go to the GPs when he had a bit of a turn in the garden centre one Sunday afternoon. When the doctors discovered that is was at a rather dire point, they brought him into hospital, for a bypass. He died a week later, the day before his surgery. That was the 8th of February. He was only 63. My mum was a bit younger, 58. She didn't take his death well. They'd been together since their early twenties. I was born the year after they married. He was everything to her, she literally couldn't survive without him. Anyway.. I stayed up there for a week in the June, they lived on the Isle of Arran you see. She didn't speak, didn't eat, didn't sleep. She looked awful.. I felt terrible about leaving her so I offered for her to come down to London and live here for a while with me, get her out of the cottage a bit. Change of scenery, that sort of thing. She refused and we fell out.." Molly's composure was fracturing now. Tears began to well, her voice began to crack. Sherlock it iced her pauses were becoming longer, more frequent, so he held her to his chest as she finished;

"I couldn't get through to her on dads birthday. I rang so many times and left so many messages. the next day I decided I was going to call her when I'd finish my shift at 7pm. She'd driven her car off the pier and drowned. So, at her funeral, I promised them both I'd visit on dads birthday every year. They were the only family I have.."

She sobbed against him for half an hour, he held her tight until she eventually sobbed herself to sleep, perhaps due to her exhaustion.

Looking down at her small, peaceful face as she slept, Sherlock made his own vow. He loved this woman, he would be her family now. And by God, he was going to Scotland with her.


End file.
